


I pine fir yew

by Lonaargh



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Brief Jealousy, Christmas, Cutesy, M/M, Marriage, Pining, Sharing a Bed, Steamy, pines - Freeform, snowstorm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-10
Updated: 2019-12-10
Packaged: 2021-02-18 14:29:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21745717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lonaargh/pseuds/Lonaargh
Summary: Every year Derek sells Christmas trees. One year he meets a young boy who's in need of some comfort. Over the years they develop a friendship, but there are also some other... feelings... that Derek can't quite place.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 6
Kudos: 69
Collections: Cat’s Holiday Exchange 2019





	I pine fir yew

**Author's Note:**

  * For [1lostone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/1lostone/gifts).



> Merry Christmas! I hope you enjoy this fic! I'm sorry it's so short, but rest assured that I really put my heart and soul in it for you. Enjoy! *smooches*

“Stiles! Stiles, where are you?”

Derek, hands darkened by dirt and sap, wiped the sweat from his forehead. It was the week after Thanksgiving and things were gradually getting busier at Hale’s Happy Holiday Christmas Trees. He’d turned 16 years old this year and his mother had finally agreed to him working weekends at the stall during the season. 

His short breather was interrupted by someone shouting at the top of his lungs, “Stiles! Come on, son. It’s time to- Oh, hello Derek,” the town’s sheriff came around the corner, looking around and checking behind every Christmas tree. “I don’t suppose you’ve seen Stiles around here, have you?” He was in his uniform, which was slightly wrinkled and vaguely smelled like it hadn’t been washed in a while. Derek had heard through the grapevine that the sheriff’s family had been in rough waters lately, but he didn’t know what exactly had happened. Nor had he expected to actually see the sheriff like this.

Derek frowned quizzically, “What’s a Stiles?”

The sheriff sighed, having heard this question before, “Stiles is my son, hyperactive as anything you’ve ever seen, a mop of brown hair, about yea high,” he held his hand at about waist height, “nine years old, though he’s such a smartass that he’s easily mistaken for being older.” He pushed his hat back and rubbed his temples. “He usually sticks close to me, but this-” he seemed to mentally shake himself and caught himself mid-sentence, “anyway, have you seen him?”

Derek shook his head, “Can’t say I have, sir.” When the sheriff's only response was a frustrated groan, Derek couldn't help but feel sorry for the man. "But I'll keep an eye out for you."

The sheriff flashed him a tired but grateful smile, “Thanks, son. I’ll let you get back to work,” and with that, he walked off.

Derek watched him leave, wondering what it could have been that left the sheriff in such a state. He never was fond of law enforcement in general, but he had a healthy respect for the sheriff. When Derek felt up for working again, he reapplied one of the Band-Aids around his finger and with a grunt he lifted one of the prepackaged trees on his shoulder. This revealed a small boy squatting on the ground.

“What the-” Derek grumbled in surprise, lowering the tree again.

“Uh, hi,” the boy said, giving a small wave.

“Let me guess,” Derek sighed, “you’re Stiles?”

The boy grinned, revealing a missing front tooth, and stood upright, “Technically Stiles is only a nickname, but because most people find my real name confusing they just call me Stiles. Because my last name is Stilinski. So you can call me Stiles Stilinski. Or just Stiles. Or just Stilinski. The teacher always calls me Stilinski. Did you know that my dad is the sheriff? Weren’t you talking to him just now? I’ve been hiding from him. Do you hide from things as well sometimes? What’s your name?”

Derek blinked, not quite sure how to deal with this lisping deluge of words fired at him in rapid succession. “I… uh”

“Are you hurt?”

“What?”

Stiles pointed at the bandaids adorning Derek’s hands, “Does it hurt?”

“No, they’re to prevent me from getting blisters,” Derek shook his head and crossed his arms in front of his chest. It was time to get back in control of the conversation, “Why are you hiding, don’t you know your father is looking for you?”

“Why would you get blisters?” The little boy looked up at Derek skeptically and crossed his arms in front of his own tiny chest, mimicking Derek’s intimidating stance.

“Because the trees are rough and I handle a lot of them,” Derek looked around, trying to spot the sheriff, “You stay here, I’ll go find your dad.”

“No!” Stiles shook his head wildly and backed away from Derek, “He wants to leave and I don’t want to leave yet!”

“Look, kid, you can’t keep on hiding here-”

“You’re not that much older than me, why are you calling me kid?” Stiles drew himself up to his full height. Which wasn’t all that impressive.

“Because you are a kid. And I am definitely much older than you, pipsqueak.”

“Are not.”

“Am too.”

“Are not.”

“Am t- Now you listen here, you little walnut,” Derek bristled, “Either you go back to your dad right now, or I’m going to call out for him so he knows you’re here.”

“No! Wait! I really don’t want to go home yet, please let me stay a little bit longer,” he gave Derek the most adorable puppy eyes Derek had ever seen. And that was saying a lot, considering the fact that Derek was a werewolf. 

“Please?” Now Stiles’ lip wobbled dangerously and Derek gave in.

“Fine,” he sighed, “I’m due for a break anyway,” he sank down on a crate, pulled an apple and pen knife out of the pockets of his jacket and offered Stiles a slice. “So,” he glanced sideways at this weird kid sitting on the ground next to him, “why are you so desperate to not leave? It’s just pine trees, you know.”

“Nu-uh,” Stiles shook his head vehemently, “they’re _Christmas trees_. Important difference,” he nibbled on his slice of apple before continuing. “My mom used to be in charge of picking a Christmas tree. And when I was old enough she took me along and she let me pick the one I liked best.” 

Derek kept quiet, letting the little boy talk. He had the nagging feeling that this was about more than just a Christmas tree.

“The thing I remember the most is the smell of the trees and the sound of Christmas songs.”

“It’s a good smell.”

“Yeah,” the little boy sniffled and wiped his nose with the sleeve of his jacket.

Derek hesitated, but decided to ask the question anyway, “So, I saw your dad but not your mom. Where is she?” Being subtle and able to take a hint had never been his strong point.

Stiles was quiet for a long time and kept wiping his nose. When he finally answered his voice was hoarse and small, “She died this year.”

He looked up at Derek, his eyes red, his nose running, and tears streaming over his pale cheeks, “She died and this is my first Christmas without her and I… I-” he started sobbing.

Derek was taken aback. Sure, he had suspected something was wrong. But he was thinking more along the lines of divorce, or a trip abroad for work or something like that. Not sure how to react, he awkwardly patted Stiles on the shoulder. “There, there?” He suggested.

It didn’t work.

“It’s only been a year, but I already keep forgetting what she looked like! I don’t remember what she sounded like! Dad says it’s normal but _I don’t want to forget her_!” The crying was reaching hysterical levels by now, his breathing heavy and erratic, punctuated by sobbing hiccups.

“So you don’t want to leave because… the smell of the trees helps you remember?” Derek guessed.

Stiles nodded, “But dad wants to leave and- He hasn’t even picked a tree yet!” New tears started falling. “He says that we’ll come back later when he can make up his mind, but, but-” He threw his hands up in frustration.

“And now you’re hiding so your dad can’t take you home yet.”

“Yeah,” Stiles wiped at his eyes with his sleeves again, “And maybe he’ll actually find a tree to take home if he can’t find me long enough. And if we can find a tree to take home, maybe things will finally be normal again. Or as normal as we can get without mom. I can hear dad cry every night before he goes to sleep and I just- I- I don’t want to go yet.”

He looked up at Derek, “Please don’t tell my dad where I am? I promise I’ll go find him soon, I just want to stay. Just a little bit longer. Please?”

Well. Shit.

Derek gave Stiles another slice of the apple before getting up.

“I should be getting back to work,” he said gruffly, “Go to the stand up front and tell my mom you’re my friend. She’ll give you some hot chocolate,” he picked up the tree he put on the ground earlier and started walking away.

“Wait! What about my dad?” Stiles called after him.

“I’ll tell him you’re safe and drinking hot chocolate with my mother. Then I’ll help him pick out a tree. Should take about an hour or so.”

Derek didn’t look back as he carried the tree to the back, but when he heard small feet running towards the entrance, he couldn’t help but smile. 

It took him and the sheriff an hour and a half. It was a big tree. And it smelled divine.

~~

After that, Stiles and his father visited Derek’s stand every year. The first few years the sheriff would bring a newspaper and just sit and read after picking out a tree until Stiles was ready to go home. When Stiles started attending high school the sheriff would drop Stiles off for a few hours and Stiles would just find a quiet corner between the trees. He never bothered any of the customers and mostly kept out of the way. But he would always make a point of finding Derek and following him around for a bit. Like a little lost puppy.

It was around the time that Stiles turned 16 that Derek started to feel… different… towards the kid. First of all, the kid was no longer a kid. Suddenly Derek noticed that Stiles had a very attractive smile, and smiling was something that Stiles did a lot. The 9 year old cheeky kid had grown into a mouthy, cheeky teenager. And Derek had no patience for mouthy, cheeky teenagers.

“Yo, Der-bear!”

Derek groaned, ignoring Stiles calling out to him.

“Derek! Wait up!”

“I’m working, Stiles. Bugger off.”

Stiles ran-skipped until he was walking next to Derek. He was sucking on a bright red lollipop, occasionally pulling it out of his mouth to talk. It was somehow very distracting to Derek. Though he couldn’t figure out why. Stiles gestured at the tree Derek was currently lugging along, “I can see that. Don’t you ever take a break?”

“In half an hour or so.”

“You know what they say, all work and no play…” Stiles teasingly drew out the last word before popping the lollipop back into his mouth.

“Earns me a lot of money, now get lost.”

“So grumpy,” Stiles peered a bit more at Derek’s silhouette. Then he suddenly put his face very close to Derek’s, squinting at his chin, “Have you always had this much beard?”

“What?” Derek took a step back, almost dropping the tree, surprised by the sudden proximity.

“Beard. You look like a well-groomed caveman with all that facial hair. A well-groomed handsome caveman.” 

That shit eating grin again. It had to be illegal to smile like that. Cheeks burning, Derek shoved Stiles out of the way, “I shaved this morning. Go annoy someone else,” he growled.

“You shaved this _morning_? Seriously? You’re telling me this is your five o’clock shadow? More like five months shadow, am I right?” Stiles nudged Derek in the ribs.

“Go. Away.”

Stiles rolled his eyes, but stopped walking. 

“You’re no fun, Der-bear!” He called after Derek, thrusting his hands in his pockets.

“And stop calling me Der-bear!”

“Have it your way, Sourwolf! You know you love me!”

Fucking annoying _kid_. 

~~

It was the day before Christmas and Stiles was bored out of his mind. His dad was working and had left Stiles home alone. Granted, leaving a twenty year old who’s usually away to college ‘home alone’ is not very dramatic but Stiles was still highly offended. He could get into all sorts of trouble! He could… he could… not really think of anything right now. So instead of getting into all kinds of vengeful trouble to teach his dad an important lesson about leaving his son without supervision, he put on his winter coat and went for a walk in the chilly December air. The town was in a lively pre-Christmas buzz. People were doing their extremely last minute Christmas shopping and the yearly Christmas market was as crowded and noisy as ever. It was a cozy kind of noisy; children were shouting, people who hadn’t seen each other in a while were happily catching each other up on recent events and serving as the most cliché thing ever, Christmas carols were playing softly on the background. 

A subtle smell of warm caramel wafted towards Stiles, tempting him to come and take a look. Following his nose, he stepped off the sidewalk and wandered towards the market. A few minutes later, candy apple and hot chocolate milk in his hands, he leisurely browsed the stalls. He’d forgotten how much fun this was. He hadn’t been in Beacon Hills for the Christmas market in almost three years now and didn’t really realize until now that he’d actually missed this. He smiled fondly at two children, probably siblings, who’d spotting his treat and were begging their mother for a candy apple as well.

“Sorry dears, I didn’t expect to actually buy anything. We were just coming to watch the people skate, remember?” Their mom gestured at the ice rink near the end of the market. 

Stiles bit his lip when he saw the kids pout. He’d always been such a sucker for puppy eyes, “Excuse me, ma’am? I couldn’t but overhear,” he flashed her his most charming smile, “and I can’t let anyone walk away without tasting these delicious apples. Would you mind me giving the kids some money to buy them?”

The mother hesitated, but gave in when she saw the hopeful glances of her children and nodded at Stiles, “That would be so sweet of you, thank you.”

Stiles kneeled next to the children and gave them the money and directions to the candy apple stall, “And don’t forget to make a wish before you bite into it,” he added in a mock whisper, “My mother always said that the invisible caramel fairies will grant any wish if you give them a chance to bite into the apple first!” One of the kids peered at him, “You’re weird, mister!”

He laughed, ruffled their hair and watched them rush off towards the stall, their mother hastily apologizing to him for her child’s words before hurrying to keep up with them. Another good deed done. Satisfied, he got back to his feet. Or at least, he tried to.

He was knocked off balance by someone who hadn’t seen him sitting on the ground, bumping into him. The person tripped and fell, taking Stiles down with him. Stiles barely had time to let out a surprised squawk before he was suddenly on his back on the freezing cold ground, a large and heavy person on top of him.

“Are you okay? I’m so-” He began, trying to to get up again as the person got back to their feet. If anything, he had expected to get yelled at. But when he looked his assailant in the face, he was suddenly at a loss for words.

The glare that was directed at Stiles was worse than any yelling. The arms folded in front of the chest were a statement about his stupidity, harsher than any words could’ve managed. And the frowning caterpillar-y eyebrows were clearly disappointed in him, he was sure of it.

But none of that mattered, because all those disapproving features belonged to the one person he’d had vivid fantasies about ever since he was old enough to know what those weird feelings in his tummy were all about.

“Derek?” God, he wished his voice didn’t come out all squeaky like that. He was a man now, dammit. He scraped his throat and tried again, “Derek?” He asked in a gruff, manly voice.

Derek raised an eyebrow, looking Stiles up and down, and Stiles suddenly felt extremely warm. He could feel his ears and cheeks glowing.

“It’s Stiles,” he added for extra clarification, “That little scrawny kid that always kept following you around at work?”

“I remember you,” Derek replied, eyebrow still raised and an unreadable expression on his face.

“Well… good,” Stiles ran his fingers through his hair, looking around for something to ease the awkwardness, “I, uh… I’m sorry about all that,” he motioned vaguely at the ground, “I was helping some kids and didn’t… uh.. realize…,” he let the sentence trail off, squirming a bit under Derek’s intense gaze.

“Are you hurt?” 

“What?”

“I fell on top of you. I’m not exactly a lightweight. Are you hurt?”

“Oh! No, I’m fine,” Stiles chuckled, “I’ve been working out a bit, I’m not as fragile and scrawny as I used to be.”

Derek’s other eyebrow shot up as well as he once again looked Stiles over from head to toe.

“I mean,” Stiles faltered, feeling uncomfortably hot again, “It’s not really visible right now because I’m wearing a fluffy coat, but trust me, I’m not all elbows and knees anymore.”

“Good to hear that,” Derek flashed him a quick smile, nearly giving Stiles a heart attack because Oh My God So Hot, “Well, it was fun catching up with you, Stiles. But I have to get back to work,” and he walked away from Stiles.

“Wait, hang on!” Stiles hurried to catch up with Derek, “Do you mind if I tag along with you? Dad is working and I’ve got nothing to do. It’ll just be like old times!”

Derek frowned slightly, “If you have to.”

“Great!”

~~

The market was bustling. There were people everywhere. Except at Derek’s stall. It being the day before Christmas meant that most people had already bought their tree, so there wasn’t a lot for Derek to actually do. He had maybe three to four trees still in stock, the rest already sold or written off. 

He sat grumpily on a chair near the entrance of his lot, Stiles chattering next to him. Derek didn’t need this. He’d been very surprised when he bumped into Stiles. Literally. He already knew that the boy wasn’t lying about no longer being scrawny and skinny. Derek had felt that first hand while he was _lying on top of him, oh my God!_

He surreptitiously glanced at Stiles, who was still talking about how things were at college and all his dates and whatever. His gaze fell on Stiles lips, those lips that never stopped moving. His animated eyes, his cute nose. 

Derek quickly tore his gaze away again. A _cute_ nose? What the hell was he thinking? This was Stiles! That little boy that’d been tailing him for years. A _boy_.

It’d been a shock to see Stiles again. When he’d last seen him three years ago he was still a teen. Bumbling, stumbling, awkward. He absentmindedly and automatically ducked to avoid a flailing hand as Stiles gestured wildly to accompany a tale about what he’d gotten up to this summer. It involved falling into a pool and making out with the poolboy. Or something like that. Derek wasn’t really listening. He resumed his subtle staring.

If he was being really honest with himself, he’d had to admit that he’d been relieved when Stiles went away back then. It’d been getting harder and harder (hah) to tell himself that his fascination for everything attached to Stiles’ body had just been general curiosity and care about Stiles’ well being. But now that Stiles was back, there really was no denying it anymore. Stiles was hot. Capital H, Hot.

“And then I figured, what the hell, right? So I showed him what I could do with the stem of a cherry and-” Stiles stopped talking, “Why are you staring at me, dude? Do I have something on my face?” Stiles started rubbing his face, trying to dislodge whatever it was he thought was on his face.

“I wasn’t staring,” Derek protested, inwardly cursing when he felt his cheeks growing hot, “I was intently listening to your story.”

“Were you now?” Stiles grinned at him mischievously, “Then what was the story about?”

Oh. Shit. Derek feverishly tried to remember the last thing Stiles had said. All he really recalled that it was really distracting and had something to do with- “You were going to show off your skills with… an… apple?” He hazarded.

“Hah! Close, but no banana. See what I did there? Anyway, it was a cherry. And I can do wicked things with the stem of a cherry. Using only my tongue.”

Derek’s gaze was instantly pulled towards Stiles’ mouth. Oh man, if only Stiles knew what kind of image he just conjured up with that sentence. There were more than just cherries involved. 

“You’re doing it again,” Stiles said, sounding amused.

“Am not.”

“Anyway, it didn’t last long. Turns out the dude was a total snoozefest and couldn’t be bothered to-”

“DEREK!” A flurry of limbs, silky brown hair and a pair of gorgeous stilettos barreled past Stiles and into Derek’s arms.

Derek barely managed to catch Allison and they almost toppled backwards in the chair from the sheer force with which she’d flung herself at him. “Hi Allison,” he grunted, scrunching up his nose when she placed two sloppy wet kisses on his cheek.

“Hey Derry-poo,” Allison smiled wickedly when she saw Derek’s look of disgust at the petname, making Stiles think she used it just to annoy him, “Did you get my message?”

“Yes.”

“Can you do it?”

“Yes.”

“You’re the best!”

“Yes. I know.”

She gave him another kiss on his cheek, leaving behind another perfect lipstick imprint of her cherry red lips, “Well, gotta fly. You know how it is!” 

And with a last “I love you, Derry-poo!” she rushed off again, leaving only a cloud of designer perfume in her wake.

Derek rubbed irritably at his face, trying to rub off the lipstick marks that he couldn’t see but _knew_ were there. He turned to Stiles, “Did I get everything off?”

“Hm? Yeah. Sure,” Stiles muttered, still looking in the direction where Allison had disappeared off to.

Derek’s heart skipped a beat when he saw Stiles still looking in Allison’s direction. Another one who fell head over heels for Allison the moment they saw her. Derek couldn’t blame Stiles. Allison was gorgeous. So why did he suddenly feel so sad and disappointed?

~~

Stiles glowered grumpily at his phone as Derek went ‘to pick something up’. He’d promised to keep an eye on the stall, just in case a late customer would show up. Why anyone on earth would still need a christmas tree the day before Christmas was beyond Stiles, but at least this gave him a chance to brood without Derek noticing.

What was he _thinking_? Of course a gorgeous man like Derek wouldn’t still be single. And of course he’d be with someone as absolutely stunning as that brunette woman that came by earlier. He should’ve known! 

He’d been bragging to Derek about all his dates at college, but he maybe kinda neglected to mention that all of them resembled Derek himself. But none of them could hold a candle to the real thing. It took three years to get over the unholy crush he had on Derek since forever. Or at least, that’s what Stiles thought. He’d gone back to Beacon Hills without really giving Derek any thought. But it’d only taken one glance at his stupid sour-wolf face and those caterpillar-y eyebrows and all those feelings had come rushing back and hit him like a rampaging eighteen-wheeler. Okay, maybe having Derek lying on top of him like that didn’t exactly help. And for those brief twenty minutes in which he couldn’t stop _talking, oh my God, what was that even_ , he’d had a fleeting glimmer of hope that maybe he could ask Derek out for a date. Maybe not a date, because he wasn’t that brave, but at least to go and grab a coffee sometime while he was in town. 

But then that _woman_ had crushed those hopes and dreams and quite a few late night fantasies. Stiles sighed and rubbed his temples. He had to really get over this whole nonsense. He’d celebrate Christmas with his dad tomorrow and then go back to his dorm for another year. Find a nice date. One who didn’t resemble Derek in any way. Yes, that was the new plan. No more Derek. He’d go home after Derek would come back from whatever the hell he was doing and then Stiles would be done. He sat up straight when he saw Derek coming back his way and ran his sweaty palm over his jeans in an attempt to dry them off.

“Listen, Derek,” he started when Derek was within hearing distance, but Derek cut him off.

“It’s time to close shop,” Derek said, walking briskly past Stiles, “I need to get these leftover trees delivered to Dave before tomorrow.”

“Dave?”

“He’s a guy who delivers the trees to a few coastal cities. They use the trees to help with the creation of sand dunes, sand dunes are the first line of defense during tropical storms because they are able to absorb the impact of destructive winds and waves.”

“That’s… huh. That’s actually quite awesome?” Stiles frowned and scurried after Derek, “Beats throwing the trees in the wood chipper, I suppose.”

“That it does,” Derek picked up two trees at once, still in their wrapping, and walked to a nearby pickup truck, “It feels good, y’know, doing something this simple that still has a huge impact.”

Stiles nodded, fidgeting as he watched Derek’s bulky form threw the trees in the back of the truck, “Look, I really have-”

“Wanna tag along?”

“What?”

“It’s only a short trip, I promise. And I figured it might be nice for you to while away the time until your dad is still working,” Derek turned around and gave Stiles a shy smile, “And I wouldn’t mind the company.”

Whoa. Did Derek Hale actually admit to like having him around? Derek ‘I’ll die before saying anything nice about anybody’ Hale? Apparently today was the day when pigs would fly. Stiles mulled it over for a bit. He really meant to forget about Derek. He really did. The image of the brunette woman flashed in front of his mind’s eye for a fraction of a second, but after a moment’s hesitation he disregarded it. It wasn’t as if there was anything actually going on. He was just accompanying Derek on a short trip. Nothing wrong with that, right?

“I… uh,” Stiles ran his fingers through his shaggy brown hair, “Sure! I mean, if you really don’t mind?”

“I wouldn’t have asked you if I minded.”

Ah. Back at the grumpy sourwolf then. Good, at least this was more familiar territory for Stiles.

“Here, take this and throw it in the truck. There’s only a few trees left, so it’s not a lot of work. But it looks like there’s a snowstorm heading this way and I’d like to get back into town before it hits. I need to give Allison… something… I picked up for her.”

Stiles pretended not to notice Derek faltering at the ‘something’, “And Allison is… the brunette from earlier?” He inquired innocently.

“Yeah, she’s a good friend.”

Aha! Just a good friend! Stiles felt his mood instantly brighten. He threw another tree in the back of the truck with renewed vigor. 

They worked together in comfortable silence, quickly getting rid of the trees. Derek had been right, it wasn’t a lot of work and it wasn’t before long that Stiles scooted into the truck on the passenger's seat next to Derek.

He felt strangely giddy, a feeling that was only emphasized by his close proximity to Derek and the way the truck smelled. It smelled like Derek. It was like driving inside Derek’s leather jacket. Stiles decided then and there that he’d gladly spend entire days inside this truck, just for the smell alone.

He nearly jumped out of the seat when Derek shifted gear, briefly brushing his fingers against Stiles’ knee.

“Sorry,” Derek mumbled absentmindedly, keeping an eye on the road.

“No problem,” Stiles replied, casually placing his hands in his lap, “hardly even noticed it, it takes more than a slight caress… uh, I mean… touch… to startle me. Ha.”

Cheeks burning, Stiles forced himself to stop babbling and prayed that his hands fully concealed the awkward boner he was now sporting.

~~

It started with one snowflake, when they unloaded the first tree. By the time the truck was empty, Stiles couldn’t see more than two feet ahead of him. It was like walking through a landscape entirely made of television static. The freezing wind had picked up, whipping the snow in their faces and making it hard to make themselves heard.

Stiles breathed in relief when he slammed the car door shut behind him, flopping down on the seat in the relative warmth and silence of the truck. He flinched when Derek threw himself into the truck as well, shaking the ice cold snowflakes from his hair and into Stiles’ face.

“Nice, dude,” Stiles grumbled, wiping the melting snow from his face.

“You’ll live,” Derek shook his head again, dislodging the last snow flakes from his black hair, “Let’s head back home while the roads are still good.”

He started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. The drive here took them less than hour. But now, on the way back, they didn’t even cover a quarter of the route in the same time. Stiles cast a few glances towards Derek’s tense face, gripping the door handle like his life depended on it. And judging by the way the car slipped and slid every five second, his life might have actually been on the line.

They’d turned the radio off, in order to not distract Derek too much while he was concentrating on the road, but the silence was slowly getting to Stiles. He didn’t handle silence very well. He always felt the need to break it.

Just as he opened his mouth to say something, Derek spoke up, “I’m sorry.”

“Uh… for what?”

“For dragging you out here. I should’ve known better than to trust this weather.”

Stiles snorted, “Dude, unless you’re suddenly psychic I don’t see how you could’ve seen this coming. It’s all good.”

He looked at the snow and the dark silhouettes of trees passing by and added, “Well, unless you crash us into a tree. Then it’s not all good. Obviously.”

He had barely said that when Derek cursed out loud and the car swerved off the road, heading towards a snow covered tree.

This would’ve been terrible, if they hadn’t been going at a snail’s pace. As it was, they hobbled slightly down the slope and hit the tree with a light ‘thunk’.

Stiles stared at Derek in shock, his mouth and eyes wide open, “I… I’m so sorry dude!” He stammered, heart hammering in his throat. “I didn’t mean to jinx it or distract you, or… oh my God, are you okay?”

Derek dragged both his hands through his hair and exhaled slowly and loudly, before looking at Stiles and shaking his head, “Nah, it isn’t your fault. How the hell would this be your fault?” He gestured at the still falling snow that had already almost covered the tire tracks behind them, “This would’ve happened sooner or later, I had just hoped we would’ve made it back to Beacon Hills or at least be closer to it.”

“Do you think the truck’s badly damaged?”

“It’s been through worse,” Derek shrugged, “Cora isn’t a very good driver.”

“Cora?” More girlfriends?! Stiles wasn’t ready for another disappointment in their non existent relationship. He’d barely gotten over the first one!

“My sister. She managed to hit every thing that was too slow to get out of the way the first six months of her driving career.”

“That’s… kinda impressive.”

“So were the repair bills,” Derek peered through the windshield, “Y’know, I think we’re in luck.” He turned around and started rummaging around for something in the backseat.

“This weather, man,” Stiles wiped some of the quickly forming condensation from the window at his side, “It’s insane!” He turned back to Derek, “We could’ve been killed! Or worse!” He threw his arms out in consternation.

Derek stopped rummaging and looked at Stiles in confusion, “Worse? What’s worse than getting killed?”

Stiles opened his mouth to answer… and came up short, “We… we could’ve been… Look! It doesn’t matter! The point is… the _point_ … is- What are you even looking for?”

Derek had gone back to rummaging during Stiles’ tirade, “Flashlight. Water. Blankets.”

“Right. Makes sense if we’re going to be stuck in this truck for a while,” Stiles nodded, “We could turn the radio back on? Sing a few songs to pass the time while we wait for someone to help us?”

“No.”

“Okay, fine, preserve the car battery. I can respect that. Thinking on your feet.”

“No. We’re not staying in this truck.”

Stiles went back to staring incredulously at Derek, “We’re… not?”

“No.”

“I usually love… I mean… _like_ you for your brevity in conversations, but would you mind elaborating on this just a little bit?”

Derek had finally found all the supplies he had been looking for and thrust an armful of blankets of all shapes and sizes into Stiles’ arms, “Sure. We’re going outside. You take these,” after that he threw open the door, stepped outside in the flurry of snow and closed the door behind him. Leaving Stiles alone in the car.

“We’re… what?” Stiles squeaked. When he didn’t get a reply he took a deep breath and stepped outside as well, shivering when the freezing wind hit him full on in his face.

“I don’t like this!” Stiles shouted over the howling wind at Derek. Derek, who didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed by the raging elements.

“I didn’t expect you to,” Derek yelled back, setting off deeper into the woods.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“My parents have a cabin in these woods, and I’m pretty sure I recognize where we are. It shouldn’t be far!”

Stiles trudged through the ever deepening snow, trying to keep up with Derek’s long strides, “Not to be a complete downer,” he panted, “but ‘pretty sure’ does not sound very promising!”

“Trust me,” Derek growled, “Now shut up and walk.”

“No, you can’t-” Stiles stopped to pick up a blanket he’d accidentally dropped and hurried to catch up, “you can’t just walk off into the woods during a snowstorm. There’s no telling what might happen! We may never find it!”

“We’ll find it.”

“The door may be locked if we do find it!”

“I know where to find the key.”

“We could freeze to death!”

“We’re here.”

“We could- what?” Stiles hadn’t even seen the pitch black structure through the flurry of snowflakes, but now that he was close he noticed a small wooden cabin. Derek reached underneath a small flowerpot and pulled out a key.

“Really?” Stiles scoffed, “Underneath a flowerpot?”

“You can just stay outside, if you don’t like it,” Derek growled at Stiles as he unlocked the door, “I mean, I won’t blame you for not wanting to stay in a place where the key is hidden underneath a lowly flowerpot.”

Stiles scowled and followed Derek inside, “All I’m saying is that it isn’t the safest place to hide a key, that’s all. It’s the first place where burglars will look and…” he let the sentence trail off while he looked around, “Not that there’s a lot for the burglars to take.”

Derek rolled his eyes as he put the items he was carrying on the rickety table in the middle of the room, “Like I said. You don’t _have_ to come inside. If you’d rather stay outside, that’s all up to you.”

The cabin was small, completely without any electricity whatsoever and barely furnished. It had a kitchen table, two wooden chairs, a fireplace and space. Not a lot of space, mind you. Just enough space to put down a sleeping bag or two. It was barely enough to spend the night in. Let alone survive or live in for a longer period of time.

Stiles looked over his shoulder at the storm raging outside, “Nah, I’m good.”

He dumped the blankets on the floor and kicked the door closed behind him, “How about we get some light up in here?”

“Way ahead of you.”

He could hear some rustling and general rummaging around, before a flame flared up in Derek’s hand, courtesy of some handy matches. It wasn’t long before Derek had a nice and warm fire going on in the fireplace and Stiles hurried towards it, huddling next to the fire for warmth. “This feels so good,” he moaned as he rubbed his hands at the fire, before turning around to warm his backside. It took him quite a few seconds before he noticed that Derek was staring at him weirdly. “What?” He asked, feeling his cheeks warm up.

“What are you doing?” Derek seemed uncomfortable, rubbing his neck and avoiding Stiles’ eyes.

“Warming up?”

“I… uh… can see that. It’s just that… uh…” Derek cleared his throat, “Maybe we should get set up? See what we can eat? Things like that? Before we get to the,” he gestured weakly at the fire, “warming up?”

“Oh. Sure,” Stiles stood up straight, “How can I help?”

Derek gathered the blankets that Stiles had thrown on the ground earlier, “How about you prepare the beds?” And he pushed them back into Stiles’ arms.

“Beds? Wouldn’t it be more efficient to just make one big blanket pile and share?”

The flickering flames tried their best, but they couldn’t hide the bright red of Derek’s cheeks. Stiles bit back a grin. Well, well. It seemed that Derek wasn’t completely immune to Stiles’ charm.

“Yes. No. Maybe. It would be more efficient, yes,” Derek mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck more, “But you really don’t have to if you don’t want to. Sleep together, I mean. I mean, uh,” Stiles hadn’t thought it possible for Derek to turn a deeper shade of red, “In the same bed, I mean.”

“No, that’s cool,” Stiles answered, spreading the blankets on the ground, “I’m perfectly alright with sleeping with you. In the same bed and everything,” he flashed Derek the biggest shit eating grin he’d ever been able to conjure up.

~~

“Go fish!” Derek grinned at Stiles, who was glaring up at him.

It was three hours later and the storm was still going strong outside. Derek was sure the snow was piled up high in front of the door and going outside tomorrow morning would be quite a challenge. But he couldn’t care less at this moment. They’d found a pack of cards in one of the many empty cabinets in the hut and had spent the last few hours doing nothing but playing card games. And Derek had found out that Stiles was quite bad at most of the games that didn’t involve only luck. The boy had the worst poker face he’d ever seen.

And, to make matters way better, they’d also found a bottle of vodka. Now they were warm, sitting next to the fire, and also warm because of the alcohol. And, though he never would admit this, Derek was also having _fun_.

Sure, he was sorta apprehensive about the whole sleeping situation. Hearing Stiles moan like that while warming up to the fire had done _things_ to Derek. And while he had to admit that the things were pleasant, he wasn’t at all keen to let Stiles actually know about those things. But on the other hand… he was fairly sure that Stiles had been eyeing his butt all day. Which, again, did things to him every time he thought about it. 

Derek threw down another card, not even trying to hide his grin when he saw Stiles grimace in frustration. There was also the fact that he just _loved_ teasing Stiles. He had no idea why, just that it was extremely addictive.

Stiles took another swig from the bottle and pushed his cards towards Derek, “I’m done,” he said, “There’s no winning with you around. No fun.”

Derek chuckled and checked his watch as he put the cards away, “Well, it’s almost midnight,” he eyed the fireplace, “The fire is about to die, so it’ll get cold fast,” he hesitated and looked away from Stiles’ suddenly amused look.

“Meaning?” Stiles prompted.

“Meaning we’ll probably be better off underneath the blankets. Soon. Uh. I mean. In order to not get cold. And… uh… we also won’t have any light anymore. And all that.”

Stiles practically jumped up, taking the almost empty bottle along, and crawled underneath the blankets. He lifted up one corner and waggled his eyebrows suggestively at Derek, “Care to join me?”

Derek felt his cheeks burn, “I… eh… I mean… I’m… uh…”

“Look, if the choice is between freezing out there and being afraid that I’ll accidentally snuggle you to death in your sleep, I can assure you that my snuggles are absolutely worth dying for.”

Derek chuckled and gave in. He kicked off his shoes and shocks, and made himself comfortable underneath the blankets with Stiles.

“This is nice,” he heard Stiles say and his heart rate kicked it up a notch when he felt Stiles snuggle up closer to him.

“Yeah. I guess,” Derek kept staring at the dying fire, cursing his burning cheeks and thanking the heavens that Stiles couldn’t see the look on his face at the moment.

“That vodka was disgusting though.”

“Yeah.”

“But it does a decent job keeping me warm.”

“Oh yeah, absolutely,” Derek was highly aware that he wasn’t contributing much to the conversation, but his brain simply refused to cooperate.

The warmth of Stiles’ body pressing against his was _distracting_. He desperately cast around for something to say.

“The storm will probably die down around dawn, so that means we ca- _haaa what are you doing?_ ” Derek’s voice shot up an octave when he suddenly felt Stiles’ cold hands snake underneath his shirt. And his voice wasn’t the only thing rising up.

“My hands are cold.”

“I can _feel_ that, you jackass! My God, are you _made_ of ice?” Derek shuddered as cold fingers trailed up and down his back. It didn’t necessarily feel bad, as such. But he wasn’t going to let Stiles know that.

“You are so nice and warm,” Stiles practically moaned in his ear, “Do you mind if I warm my hands up just a little bit longer?”

Dear Lord, he was not going to get any sleep tonight, “Yeah. Sure. Whatever. It doesn’t bother me anyway.”

He yelped when the freezing hands glided towards his chest. A growl escaped his throat when he heard Stiles chuckle.

“Sure, Elsa. Hey, wanna go build a snowman with me after all this?”

“Shut up.”

“Oh Derek,” Stiles sighed dramatically, “I can’t shut up. The sky’s awake, so _I’m_ awake. So we need to-”

“Shut. Up.”

Derek sighed and tried to relax as he ignored Stiles' slowly warming hands resting against his skin. It wasn't easy, but he eventually fell asleep. That is, until he suddenly heard Stiles say softly, "You know, I've had a crush on you since forever." So softly he’d be unsure he’d truly heard it if he hadn’t been a werewolf.

Well, that was enough to really jolt him awake. He kept quiet, unsure how to respond.

"It's probably the vodka that makes me say all this," Stiles whispered, chuckling softly again, "And I probably wouldn't dare saying this to your face. Which is why I'm saying this to your back. While you’re asleep and can’t hear me. A great solution really. Ten out of ten smitten cowards would recommend."

Derek felt Stiles take a deep breath and shift into a more comfortable position against Derek's back, "And, well, okay, maybe it hasn't been since _forever_. But at least since a long time. I think maybe since I was 14 or something? I let my choice of college be influenced by my stupid crush on you. Silly isn't it? I thought I could get over you as long as I was far far away from you. And for a while I actually believed it had worked! And then you ran into me. Quite literally, I might add. And I fell for you all over again. Again, quite literally." 

Stiles' fingers were now warm and Derek's heart and stomach were doing back flips when he felt warm fingertips lightly caress the sensitive skin on his back. He was dreaming. Right? That had to be it. There was no way Stiles would be-

He froze when Stiles softly nuzzled the back of his neck and he couldn't suppress a soft whine.

Surprised, Stiles jerked back, "You're awake! I... uh... you were uh... talking in your sleep. Or, no, wait, I was talking in my sleep. I... uh... wanted to put my earmuffs on a cold cookie. The poor cookie. I didn't mean to wake you. Did you have a nice dream? You must've been dreaming, right? Ahaha... ha..."

Derek turned around so he was facing Stiles, peering Stiles' face in the dark, "I wasn't dreaming," he whispered hoarsely. He could see Stiles’ eye widen and heard his heartbeat speed up.

"Oh. That sucks. Dreams are often the most awesome thing about sleeping, I find. I also read somewhere that-"

"I heard everything you said."

"-that... that.. dreams help you process... things...-"

Derek gingerly lifted his hand to Stiles' face, caressing a stubbly cheek with his thumb, "I wasn't dreaming, Stiles."

"I... uh...," Even in the dark, Derek could see Stiles swallow with some difficulty. 

"And if I was dreaming," Derek added, moving his thumb up and down, "I wouldn't want to wake up."

Stiles had stopped babbling, only emitting a strange strangled sound as he leaned into Derek's touch.

"For years I thought you were annoying, " Derek went on, "For years I wanted to strangle you every time you opened your mouth." His thumb brushed Stiles' bottom lip, "And I thought that was simply it. You were an annoying pimply teenager."

"Hey now," Stiles protested, "I was never that pimply!"

"But I also found that I hated it more whenever you weren't around. I'd look forward to the days when you were around at work to bother me. I couldn't stand being near you and I couldn't bear the thought of you not being there."

Stiles' hand tentatively moved to Derek's hip, the warmth of his hand feeling pleasant through Derek's jeans.

Derek continued, "And then I suddenly realised that it wasn't that I hated you. Quite the opposite really," he cupped Stiles' face in both hands, "I was- _am_ smitten. Completely head over heels. I never dared dream that you would return those feelings. I always thought you thought of me like that grumpy older dude who simply shared his apple with me once."

"Well..."

"Shut up," Derek growled fondly, gazing in Stiles' eyes as he slowly brought his face closer, "You always talk and talk with that gorgeous mouth of yours."

"I... uh... I'm... sorry?" Stiles whispered against his mouth, their lips just barely not touching.

"I thought I told you to shut up," Derek murmured, before tenderly pressing his lips against Stiles'.

It was everything he'd hoped it would be and more. It was amazing how the act of pressing lips together could be this satisfying, Derek mused in the back of his mind. Stiles greedily and hungrily kissed Derek back. Relishing the feeling of warm lips against his own, Stiles' fingers now finding their way underneath his shirt, setting his skin on fire with their featherlight touch. 

He broke off the kiss for a second, to take a breath, "One more," he muttered, his voice hoarse. The second kiss, just as chaste as the first, lasted longer but was somehow not as satisfying. "One more."

His own fingers were now fumbling with Stiles' shirt, trying to pull it up, pull it over. Pull it off. He wasn't quite sure what he wanted, all he knew was that it wasn't enough. He wanted more. So much more. One more. Always one more. 

"Derek," Stiles groaned against his mouth as they broke off another kiss, "Derek."

Just hearing Stiles say his name like that was enough to make Derek's blood boil. It was like he had a fever. His skin was hot and sensitive, his heart was ready to burst and he couldn't think straight, "Yeah?" He panted. Why was he so out of breath? He was super fit. He worked out. Why-

"No, nothing. I just wanted to say your name. I love saying your name."

"You little shit." He put his hand on the back of Stiles' head and pulled him back in for another kiss. It still wasn't enough. He ran his tongue over Stiles' lips and took a shuddering breath when he felt Stiles' do the same to him. The kiss deepened and finally, _finally_ , this was what he wanted. His questing fingers had found the hem of Stiles' shirt and he impatiently tugged it over his head, cursing under his breath when he realized this meant he had to stop kissing. Unwilling to lose more time, he took his own shirt off as well.

"This is so unfair," Stiles complained, sitting up on his knees to help Derek with his shirt. 

Derek threw his shirt to the side "Clothes? Yes, they're unfair, I agree. Take yours off,," he moved closer to Stiles, nuzzling his neck and inhaling deeply. Dear God, the man even _smelled_ great.

"No, not that," Stiles murmured in his ear, the low timbre giving Derek goosebumps, "I'd just always pictured this moment with a lot more light. I want to see you. You’re a werewolf. You can smell and see me with those ridiculous heightened senses. But I can’t see shit. I admit, I can smell you and your cologne is just delish. But those stupid tight shirts you always wear are such a fucking teaser, I just want to see you without them and now that you're wearing one _I can't even see you_."

Derek laughed softly, "I can do you one better," he said. He grabbed Stiles hands and put them on his stomach, just above the button of his jeans. Stiles' sharp intake of breath was a reward all on its own, "Use your imagination," he whispered. 

Stiles didn't need to be told twice. Derek bit his lip when Stiles let his fingertips glide over his abs, willing himself to stay still when Stiles drew slow, antagonizing circles around his belly button. His resolve was put to the test when Stiles put both his hands on Derek's chest, before letting them glide down again. Down over his stomach, briefly to his back where Stiles lightly dug his nails in his skin before letting them wander back to the front. 

"I have to warn you," Stiles whispered, "My imagination is quite vivid." 

Fingers played with the button of his jeans. Derek swallowed heavily, his head spinning, "Good," he whispered back. When Stiles finally managed to open the front of his jeans, Derek groaned and pushed his hands away.

"My turn."

He put both his hands on Stiles' shoulder and gently pushed him backwards, which made for a little bit of awkward shuffling because Stiles was still sitting on his knees. But eventually Stiles was lying on his back, breathing going fast. Derek didn't need to see anything to know that Stiles was just as nervous and excited about this as Derek was. He moved over Stiles, until their noses were almost touching, "I'm not going to use my fingers though." 

"What? What do you mean, you're not going to- _oh-"_ Stiles chattering was cut short when Derek softly bit his earlobe. 

"Didn't I tell you to stop talking?" Derek whispered, before pressing a kiss on the sensitive and soft skin just below Stiles' ear.

"I can't remember."

"Let me refresh your memory."

He moved down, given open mouthed kisses on Stiles' collar bone. Drinking in his scent, nibbling and licking as his fingers softly caressed his side. Featherlight kisses on Stiles' stomach, while his fingertips grazed his nipples. He grinned when he heard Stiles stifle a soft moan, before dipping his tongue in his bellybutton. 

“You were right,” he said, pressing a kiss to Stiles’ side.

“About what?”

“You’re definitely not skinny and all elbows and knees anymore,” he looked up, letting his werewolf eyes flash up in the dark, “You’re beautiful.” He hooked his fingers behind Stiles' waistband and quickly pulled Stiles' over his hips.

"Cheater," Stiles kicked his pants off, before sitting up and pushing Derek's jeans down as well, "I'm not going to sit here in my underwear while you're still wearing those damn jeans."

Derek laughed briefly, allowing Stiles to take his jeans off for him. Then he pushed Stiles back on his back again, kissing him deeply. "Let's see how vivid that imagination of yours really is."

~~ 

When Stiles woke up the next morning, Derek was gone. It was freezing in the cabin and Stiles huddled deeper underneath the blankets. Outside he could hear birds singing and the windows showed a clear blue sky. It seemed the storm had died, then. He looked around, but there was no sign of Derek. Derek's clothes had disappeared and his own were neatly folded next to the bed.

"Derek?" He called out. No answer. 

Well, that was just rude. Wrapping the blanket around him like a burrito, Stiles hopped towards the table and grabbed his clothes to get dressed. As he grabbed his pants, something fell from between his clothes and on the floor. Stiles frowned at a strange black box. He quickly put on his clothes and picked up the black box to take a closer look. It was small, without any inscription. He opened it and dropped it again with a scream. Inside the box, resting on a red velvet cushion, was a gorgeous golden wedding ring. 

"I... what... I... Derek..." Stiles picked up the ring with trembling fingers. Who was this ring for? Was Derek going to propose to... someone? Did Derek even have a girlfriend? Stiles remembered the gorgeous blonde girl from earlier. Allison, wasn't it? Jealousy flared up in his gut. How could Derek do this? How could he sleep with Stiles while almost proposing to the woman he... loved? Did he even love her? Because, well, if so, then last night was a huge mistake on Derek's part. But surely Derek wouldn't have slept with Stiles if he was truly in love with Allison. Would he? Thoughts raced through Stiles' head as he stared at the gaudy gold ring. It was funny, Stiles mused, it didn't seem to be Derek's taste. At all. He removed the ring from its box and studied it closer. There was an inscription. 

_"S, the love of my life'_

For the second time that day, Stiles dropped the ring. It rolled underneath the table and Stiles dropped on hands and knees to chase it, heart racing in his throat. Holy shit. S? S for Stiles? Was Derek going to propose to him? But how? They'd only really confessed to each other yesterday. Had Derek known all along? Was it all a romantic great plan? Did Derek have magical powers that allowed him to summon a snowstorm?

The door swung open and Derek stepped in, startling Stiles badly enough for him to jerk up and bang his head on the underside of the table.

"Ow, goddammit!" Stiles yelped, rubbing his head as he crawled backwards, clutching the ring in his hand.

"I'm back!" Derek said cheerfully, "The storm died down, so I went out for firewood. And not that just, you'll never guess who- Oh," Derek fell silent when he saw Stiles standing there with the wedding ring in his hand.

"I... it fell... and I... and then you... and... I'm so confused!"

"Listen, I can explain!" Derek put the firewood down, "It's not what you think it is!"

"I mean, I'm flattered!" Stiles rambled on, not really listening. He raked trembling fingers through his already messy hair, "I really am. And I love you too, it's just that-"

"What?"

"-we only had our first kiss yesterday. And I honestly think my dad would kill me if I came home and told him I'm marrying you. I mean-"

"I'm sorry, what?"

"-It's not that I don't want to, don't get me wrong! I really do love you and would love to marry you, but maybe not this soon already, you know?" Stiles started pacing the room, waving the ring around, "Maybe we should go on a proper date first. I should formally introduce you to my dad as someone other than 'christmas tree dude who I have a crush on'. Because I did tell my dad at some point, so he kinda knows. But he doesn't know about last night. Obviously," Stiles let out an uncertain laugh. The more he talked about it, the more elated he felt about this. 

"Can you just-" Derek tried to grab his shoulders, but Stiles dodged him.

"No, no, just hear me out," Stiles quickly said, taking a small step backward, "I'm not rejecting you. The more I'm thinking about this, the more I'm thinking that actually this isn't such a bad idea." He looked at the ring in his hand and back to Derek, "You know what? Screw it all. Yes, Derek. I'll marry you!" He looked at the ring again and grimaced, "I do hope that you don't mind us returning this ring though, because I love you, but this ring is just ugly. The inscription is a nice touch though, but my real name doesn't start with an S."

"Well, it's good to know that you don't approve of my tastes," a female voice suddenly rang out.

Stiles' eyes widened when Allison stepped out from behind Derek, rolling her eyes with a faint smirk on her lips.

She held up her hand, "Can I have my ring back, please?"

"Your... ring?" Stiles stammered, dropping the ring in the palm of her hand.

"Yeah. I'm going to propose to my boyfriend," She looked at him, her smirk growing into a full grin, "Scott."

Stiles wanted the earth to open and swallow him up right there and then. He buried his burning face in his hands and muttered, "Oh Jesus."

"Yeahhh..." Allison replied.

"Sooo this wasn't Derek's ring?"

"Noooo..." Allison said, pursing her lips and shaking her head.

"And he wasn't proposing to me?"

"Not with _my_ ring, I should hope not," She glanced at her watch, "Look, I drove out to look for you guys after the storm. And to retrieve my ring. You're lucky I happened to drive by just as Derek was gathering wood near the road. But I do need to get back to town in a bit, so do you two think we can-"

"You... love me?" Derek finally responded, interrupting Allison. 

Stiles peeked at him through his fingers, "I... uh... yes? I mean... I didn't know until I just... kinda blurted it out?"

A strange noise came from the back of Derek's throat, before he stepped close to Stiles and pulled him against his broad chest, all but crushing his lips in a passionate kiss.

When they came back up for air, Derek pressed his forehead against Stiles' and said, "I love you too." 

"But... uh... let's not get married yet. Okay?" Stiles replied.

Derek's only reply was a chuckle and another kiss that seemed to last forever and simultaneously not long enough. 


End file.
